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The menu, dominated by the priciest luxuries of Cantonese cuisine such as shark's fin, bird's nest and abalone that cost up to HK$2,880 ($372) per dish, showed no signs of austerity.
Then again, with an art-deco interior, whirring ceiling fans and glass condiment trays, all reminiscent of 1930s Shanghai, it's clear upon arrival that Island Tang is meant to conjure an era far removed from the present. It's a stylish look you'd expect from Tang, founder of Shanghai Tang, the fashion brand which specializes in China chic (or kitsch, depending on your perspective). A pity the substance proves less impressive.
Island Tang at last offers Hong Kong diners who aren't privileged enough to dine at the members-only China Club, Tang's main restaurant in Hong Kong, a chance to sample his hospitality. The new addition to his empire is open to all, the same as China Tang at London's Dorchester Hotel.
The only barrier to entry here is the depth of your wallet. Island Tang serves Cantonese staples including wonton noodles and roast goose priced several times that of humbler eateries nearby. It's an increase that's not fully justified by two recent visits which found mixed-quality fare and haphazard service.
Mixed Fare
When we visited on a Thursday evening, the restaurant was empty save for a lone female diner and two gatherings in private rooms. The slow trade was due less to the economic slump than poor weather. Officials had raised the No. 8 typhoon warning signal, it's third highest, advising people to stay home.
While many venues closed, a call to Island Tang confirmed it would remain open. When we arrived, staff outnumbered diners, so service was welcoming, though we had to ask for menus, which the waiters left on the table after we ordered.
A good feature was that each dish was served as a separate course I shared with my Cantonese companion. Highlights included the goose, with crispy skin and moist, fatty meat, as well as the fresh, tender abalone tossed with premium soy sauce. Braised sea cucumber, served with leek, was another study in perfection: the seafood neither soft nor chewy.
Each standout was marred by a disappointment. The ``deep- fried scallops'' stuffed with shrimp mousse were actually pan fried. The mollusk was mouthwateringly fresh, but there was no trace of any shrimp mousse. Worse was to come.
Executive Lunch
The sauteed shrimp with Sichuan chili sauce was a cloying, sweet mixture that tasted nothing like the trademark spicy cuisine of the southwestern Chinese province. The chef must have lost his chilies.
Mixed impressions continued when we returned for lunch three weeks later. The restaurant was busy, packed with ``old money'' tai-tais, the Chinese term for rich housewives, rather than suits from the nearby banks and brokerages.
The executive lunch -- for a minimum of two at HK$298 per person each -- sounded like a good deal. It included soup of the day, a barbecued-meat combination, rice and three dishes from a list of a dozen specialties and a dessert.
The meat combination turned out to be just barbecued pork and jelly fish. The caramelized pork (char-siu) was at least beautifully done and not charred as it can be. A separate dish of sticky rice with flecks of preserved meat and sausages was a filling treat.
Poor Combination
Of the specialties, our vegetable dish of stir-fried sugar snaps with lily bulbs, came with papaya. The mushy, musty fruit made a poor companion to the crunchy fresh pea skins. Wagyu beef, served in cubes, was the low point, with a tough, chewy texture that bore little resemblance to the fatty, melt-in-the-mouth meat it's known to be.
We tried two baskets of dim sum and the contrast symbolized Island Tang. The shrimp dumplings were small and wrapped with a wafer-thin skin, bite-sized treats that were the initial hallmark of dim sum before chefs made them too big for one mouthful. The barbecued-pork buns came in a sweet pineapple bun casing that overwhelmed the filling.
There's a range of old- and new-world wines to suit all pockets, from a Spanish Aranleon reserve under HK$400 to a 1982 Chateau Mouton Rothschild at more than HK$28,000.
One irritating feature of both my visits was the small dish of sticky gluten pieces brought to the table as an appetizer. The snack --- often referred to as vegetarian goose for its chewy, meaty texture -- was pleasant enough. The waiter didn't mention there was a HK$20 charge for it. With prices already high, it's a surprising addition to the bill.
Island Tang, Shop 222, The Galleria, 9 Queen's Rd, Central, Hong Kong. Tel: 852-2526-8798.
Then again, with an art-deco interior, whirring ceiling fans and glass condiment trays, all reminiscent of 1930s Shanghai, it's clear upon arrival that Island Tang is meant to conjure an era far removed from the present. It's a stylish look you'd expect from Tang, founder of Shanghai Tang, the fashion brand which specializes in China chic (or kitsch, depending on your perspective). A pity the substance proves less impressive.
Island Tang at last offers Hong Kong diners who aren't privileged enough to dine at the members-only China Club, Tang's main restaurant in Hong Kong, a chance to sample his hospitality. The new addition to his empire is open to all, the same as China Tang at London's Dorchester Hotel.
The only barrier to entry here is the depth of your wallet. Island Tang serves Cantonese staples including wonton noodles and roast goose priced several times that of humbler eateries nearby. It's an increase that's not fully justified by two recent visits which found mixed-quality fare and haphazard service.
Mixed Fare
When we visited on a Thursday evening, the restaurant was empty save for a lone female diner and two gatherings in private rooms. The slow trade was due less to the economic slump than poor weather. Officials had raised the No. 8 typhoon warning signal, it's third highest, advising people to stay home.
While many venues closed, a call to Island Tang confirmed it would remain open. When we arrived, staff outnumbered diners, so service was welcoming, though we had to ask for menus, which the waiters left on the table after we ordered.
A good feature was that each dish was served as a separate course I shared with my Cantonese companion. Highlights included the goose, with crispy skin and moist, fatty meat, as well as the fresh, tender abalone tossed with premium soy sauce. Braised sea cucumber, served with leek, was another study in perfection: the seafood neither soft nor chewy.
Each standout was marred by a disappointment. The ``deep- fried scallops'' stuffed with shrimp mousse were actually pan fried. The mollusk was mouthwateringly fresh, but there was no trace of any shrimp mousse. Worse was to come.
Executive Lunch
The sauteed shrimp with Sichuan chili sauce was a cloying, sweet mixture that tasted nothing like the trademark spicy cuisine of the southwestern Chinese province. The chef must have lost his chilies.
Mixed impressions continued when we returned for lunch three weeks later. The restaurant was busy, packed with ``old money'' tai-tais, the Chinese term for rich housewives, rather than suits from the nearby banks and brokerages.
The executive lunch -- for a minimum of two at HK$298 per person each -- sounded like a good deal. It included soup of the day, a barbecued-meat combination, rice and three dishes from a list of a dozen specialties and a dessert.
The meat combination turned out to be just barbecued pork and jelly fish. The caramelized pork (char-siu) was at least beautifully done and not charred as it can be. A separate dish of sticky rice with flecks of preserved meat and sausages was a filling treat.
Poor Combination
Of the specialties, our vegetable dish of stir-fried sugar snaps with lily bulbs, came with papaya. The mushy, musty fruit made a poor companion to the crunchy fresh pea skins. Wagyu beef, served in cubes, was the low point, with a tough, chewy texture that bore little resemblance to the fatty, melt-in-the-mouth meat it's known to be.
We tried two baskets of dim sum and the contrast symbolized Island Tang. The shrimp dumplings were small and wrapped with a wafer-thin skin, bite-sized treats that were the initial hallmark of dim sum before chefs made them too big for one mouthful. The barbecued-pork buns came in a sweet pineapple bun casing that overwhelmed the filling.
There's a range of old- and new-world wines to suit all pockets, from a Spanish Aranleon reserve under HK$400 to a 1982 Chateau Mouton Rothschild at more than HK$28,000.
One irritating feature of both my visits was the small dish of sticky gluten pieces brought to the table as an appetizer. The snack --- often referred to as vegetarian goose for its chewy, meaty texture -- was pleasant enough. The waiter didn't mention there was a HK$20 charge for it. With prices already high, it's a surprising addition to the bill.
Island Tang, Shop 222, The Galleria, 9 Queen's Rd, Central, Hong Kong. Tel: 852-2526-8798.
Bloomberg on David Tang
